


For Nebraska (California)

by compo67



Series: Punzel Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Babies, Bottom Jared, Breastfeeding, Explicit Sexual Content, Family, Father's Day, Fatherhood, Fetish, Fluff, Grinding, Happy Ending, Holidays, Karaoke, M/M, Milking, Multiple Orgasms, Newborn Children, Parenthood, Post Mpreg, Timestamp, Top Jensen Ackles, Triplets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp to the Punzel Verse, set when the babies are eight weeks old. Sleep deprived and constantly taking care of the trio, Jared loses track of time. It's Jensen's very first Father's Day. Jared hopes that his gifts are good enough, along with a last minute addition that involves a Mexican restaurant, drag queens, and a karaoke machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Nebraska (California)

**Author's Note:**

> happy father's day! sorry it's a bit late. however you spent it, have some fluffy Punzel verse. XD warnings for smut, adult breastfeeding/kink play. 
> 
> the song here is "You and I" by Lady Gaga. been meaning to use it for a while. :D thanks to M for the help with the gift idea. that plagued me like no other. 
> 
> leave me love so that staying up until 3 am isn't such a bad thing. <333 thank you!

Space Jam is one of the greatest films in history, if not the greatest. That is what Jared insists at six in the morning, while he’s nursing two hungry eight-week olds. What is on TV at six in the morning? Jared has learned the schedule by now. He can either watch the news, The Golden Girls, or The Nanny. He tried The Nanny last week but Fran Drescher’s voice and babies trying to eat don’t exactly mix.

Today, on one of the kids’ channels, they have Space Jam on and it’s a welcome distraction from the intensive suckling going on around his chest. The way Bailey and Hailey are eating, it’s like Jared has never, ever fed them. Of course that’s not true—four hours ago it was Hailey and Kaylee’s turn. Upset that he doesn’t get a nipple every four hours, Bailey’s tiny face is scrunched up in displeasure. Jared gently taps his nose. Lighten up, Jared thinks, this is your favorite part of existence, enjoy it.

Holding the third munchkin awaiting her turn to nurse, Jensen is on the couch next to him. The guys have set up a nursing chair just for Jared in the living room. He also has a rocking chair in the nursery and some pillows he can use to nurse in bed, but the six a.m. feeding calls for some television to help Jared stay awake. Misha has offered to put a TV in their room, but Jared didn’t grow up with one in his room as a kid and he likes it that way. He’d much rather fall asleep to Jensen murmuring on about what the babies did today.

“What keeps it from being the greatest?” Jensen asks with a yawn. There are deep, deep circles under Jensen’s beautiful eyes. Poor guy.

Jared thought that once he gave birth, he could relax and have a beer. Of course, he had forgotten about the act of breastfeeding. For as long as he has a baby or two attached to him, there is to be no alcohol in his system. But that doesn’t mean that Jensen can’t go out with the guys or Rhonda and grab a drink. He’s just turned twenty-one not too long ago, he can buy himself a drink if he wants. Jared has offered, even insisted, that Jensen get out of the house and go have some fun. Jared has left the house exactly once since they hauled in from Anaheim, and that was to get the mail.

“Titanic,” Jared replies and shifts Hailey a touch. “That’s pretty close up there.”

“What? Are you for real?”

“Excuse _me_ ,” Jared snips, moving around in the chair because his ass has fallen asleep. “Some of us cry at the scene with the door, you unfeeling jerk.”

“Jared, you cry all the time.”

“I blame hormones.”

“Yeah, okay.” Kaylee is held to his chest, sleeping peacefully for once while her siblings eat. Jensen never lets go of her head for more than a second. The sound is low on the television, but Michael Jordan just got turned into a basketball by one of the Monstars. Jared smiles. That’s funny. A lot of things are either really funny or really depressing. Jared hasn’t actually slept since… well, since that nap he took right before his water broke in Jensen’s bed. That had been a funny moment, thinking back on it now. They had passed out after sex—it still amazes Jared that they managed to have sex at all past thirty-two weeks—and Jared woke up first, feeling like he was going to throw up. A baby kicked and pressure dropped from his belly to his hips. Jensen snored on beside him as he sat up in bed and rubbed his belly. Then it happened. Like it was nothing—a small splash sound and a gush of liquid, that was it.

That was such a good nap, though. Of all naps, Jared misses after sex naps the most. Those are the kind of naps that occur so naturally; he misses being sticky and a little sore, worn out in the best of ways, and falling asleep with Jensen right there, feeling the same way. Jared misses any kind of sleep—he might trade his own brother for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep—but that one especially.

Stuff that is depressing makes him cry like one of the babies when they need a diaper change yesterday. If he found something sad before, it’s five hundred times as sad now. His very first Mother’s Day was spent mostly in tears, sobbing because he had reached a wall with nursing, recovering from delivery, and learning how to take care of three infants. It was too much all at once and he was stretched too thin. He tried his best to contribute to diaper duty, clean up, and everything else in the nursery. The night before Mother’s Day, in desperation, he gave Bailey a pacifier. That cost him big time. Nipple confusion is a harsh mistress and Jared paid dearly during the sixteen hours that Bailey would not latch on until he finally started suckling at the real deal again. Pacifiers and bottles are a no-no until they’re a little older for their own good. Jared has already found out that his body will make the milk demanded from it, but to do that, he has to nurse. With all of his time spent being the babies’ only food source, he doesn’t have the energy to do much more.

Eight weeks in now, Jared has a better handle on things. He’s still what he considers a mess—a person living on the fine line between doing okay and completely breaking down. A week ago, for whatever reason, all three babies did not feel like eating much. Jared pumped. And he pumped. And he pumped again until he cried into a pillow for ten straight minutes, begging Jensen to just leave him alone. His nipples were raw and puffy from pumping so much in one go and they were still leaking.

Because Jensen doesn’t fear death, he dragged Jared from their bed and into the bathroom, where he had a hot bath waiting. He all but shoved Jared into it, climbed in with him, and sat behind him. Jared struggled against Jensen until careful hands started massaging his chest, working their way slowly to his nipples. At first, all Jared felt was pain, and he cried for Jensen to stop. It was also embarrassing, having to be milked like a cow because his body had gotten used to producing a certain amount and any variation meant engorgement—which is about as fun as it sounds. The more Jensen rubbed and kneaded, the easier squirts of milk started to flow. Halfway through, Jensen plastered his lips against Jared’s neck and hummed. It was kind of sort of perfect in a way Jared had never imagined a moment between him and his partner might be.

The only thing that bothered Jared about their time in the tub had been his inability to do anything in return for Jensen. It was fine to feel Jensen’s cock getting hard, the two of them pressed together close and surrounded by steam. If anything, it was very reassuring. Jensen hasn’t had sex in eight weeks, more like nine, if Jared thinks about it. At twenty-one years old, he’s in his prime, and Jared knows that he wakes up hard most mornings. Jensen doesn’t say anything because he’s… well, because he’s Jensen.

“I could blow you,” Jared blurts out now, looking over at Jensen. “I can do that.”

Eyebrows are raised. Jensen looks at Kaylee. “Your daddy is crazy,” he whispers to her and pats her back. “He clearly needs sleep.”

Just as Jared is about to retort that he isn’t crazy, he’s just worried, Bailey unlatches and yawns, agreeing with the sleep part. Jared runs his fingers through Bailey’s fluff of brown hair. “Are you full?” Jared murmurs softly. “Good job, Bay. Yeah, buddy, you did real good.” On the other side, Hailey takes her time, which is fine by Bailey. He continues to suck without eating, an action that Jared figured out after Mother’s Day. Even if they’re not nursing, the motion and process of suckling is incredibly soothing to all three babies. Every tumultuous meltdown they’ve had so far has been solved by letting them suck on a nipple until they fall asleep. It isn’t so bad, Jared has decided by now. He is exhausted, sleep deprived, and his self-esteem is taking a hit for various reasons but he will do anything for the babies. If he has to never sleep ever again, he would do that. Thankfully, he has the help of three other adults who are as fond as the trio as he is.

When Bailey is situated, Jared looks up. “Is she getting fussy?” he asks, meaning Kaylee.

“Nah, she’s probably not gonna eat much.” Jensen tilts his head so that he’s nosing Kaylee’s shoulder. Jared knows that he’s doing exactly what they all do—there’s nothing in the world that smells as good as the babies. Sometimes they can stink up a room—which makes no sense at all to Jared because they are not eating burgers and fries here—but they are addictive. Jensen thinks they smell like vanilla; Jared thinks they smell more like baby powder.

“You say that now,” Jared yawns and shifts around. Hailey has unlatched and fallen back asleep. With the sleeve of his shirt, Jared dabs at her pink mouth. “That’s my girl,” he coos. She wiggles a little, responding to the sound of his voice. “Yeah, there we go. Dad’s gonna take you to bed, sweetheart.” Jared looks up and Jensen is already moving to stand up with Kaylee. The switch is made with care. Since Bailey is still suckling, and Jared knows any interruption won’t be taken well, he is left to his own devices. Jared wakes Kaylee up the way Misha showed him how to—by rubbing her belly. She fusses, causing a small sense of panic in Jared, but he slips his nipple into her mouth and she does the rest.

It never ceases to amaze Jared what his body is capable of.

There are nights when Jensen will curl up next to him and rub his belly down with lotion to help the stretch marks. At almost nine weeks after delivery, Jared has gained five pounds. He isn’t entirely sure how, but it probably has something to do with Jeff cooking his meals. Lord, the man can cook. Sometimes Jared will be nursing in the living room and he’ll hear Jeff and Jensen banter back and forth while they’re cooking dinner. It’s one of the best sounds in the house.

Familiar steps are heard nearby. Jensen has successfully put Hailey down in her crib. The next shift will be Misha’s. Jared is always on shift but the guys rotate to be his helper. A juice box is handed over and Jared makes a happy noise.

“You want breakfast?” Jensen asks, carding his fingers through Jared’s hair. “Grilled cheese?”

“I’m not that hungry, Jen.”

“You gotta eat.”

“I will when they’re done.”

“You just want Misha to make you an omelet.” Jensen flops down onto the couch. He’s wearing a pair of sweat pants that show off the curve of his ass and a pajama shirt that’s a little tight on his shoulders and upper arms. Jared sighs. It’s difficult to feel sexy and attractive when he is nursing but he can always be appreciative of the man in front of him.

“Ow,” Jared winces. “Kay, slow down.” Luckily, all three babies have no issues latching on. But sometimes Bailey will eat twice as much as his sisters and Kaylee will get finicky and eat a third of what she is supposed to. Hailey is the most consistent of her siblings; she’s also the first one to fall asleep and the last one to start crying. Right now though, Kaylee is a speed demon, in some kind of race to get as much milk as possible, like it’s going to disappear. Jared eases back, allowing for space so she can take a breather, but she protests. Small fists raised, her face scrunches up.

Panicking, Jared tries to adjust her, but Bailey on his left hinders the process. Jensen swoops in, taking Bailey, who has thankfully fallen asleep, and putting him to bed. By the time Jensen returns, Kaylee has switched sides and calmed down. She’s happy to have Jared all to herself; she nurses louder than any of her siblings and eats almost as much as Bailey did.

“Not gonna eat that much,” Jared grumbles, glaring at Jensen. “Hey, I meant what I said before.”

“You said lots of things before,” is answered back with a smile. “Remind me.”

The football position for breastfeeding is a miracle. It allows Jared to nurse two babies at the same time without having to hold them. The nursing pillows are other miracles he can’t imagine life without. But there’s nothing like nursing one baby at a time. He holds Kaylee in his arms and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her fuzzy head.

“I can blow you,” Jared reminds Jensen, who blushes. “What?”

A motion is made towards Kaylee. “She’s… she’s listening.”

“She’s eight weeks old, Punzel. I don’t think she understands.” She doesn’t, but she enjoys the sound of Jared’s voice as much as her siblings. They are all calmer whenever someone is talking. Misha has done conference calls from the nursery. “Kay-Bee, do you understand what dad and I are talking about? No? Are you sure?” Jared looks up and grins. “See? She has no clue.”

It’s adorable the way Jensen doesn’t like to discuss sex or sexual things around the babies. How does he think the babies were made? And what about all the wonderful, glorious, hormonal sex they had while Jared was the size of a house?

“You… you don’t have to.” Jensen walks around the living room, pacing like he’s nervous. “Whenever you’re ready, that’s cool.”

“What if your dick falls off in the process of waiting?”

The look of horror from the idea and the words out of Jared’s out is worth it. “Can we not discuss my dick in the presence of your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” Jared clarifies.

“Our daughter,” is echoed softly. “Sorry. Still new.”

“I see how you are with them when you think no one’s looking. You get the same goofy smile Jeff does when they do so much as breathe.” Jared dabs at the corner of Kaylee’s mouth. Her brow furrows but she keeps her eyes firmly shut. “If you… you know… want me to do something for you, I wouldn’t mind.”

Jensen pauses his pacing. He looks out the window, takes a deep breath, and looks back over at Jared. “Can I let you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Kaylee finishes with a stretch and a yawn. As he’s cleaning her up, he adds, “Just don’t wait until your dick is half falling off to let me know.”

When Kaylee starts crying, needing to be burped, Jared is scolded for his choice of words, which have obviously upset her. Space Jam is regrettably turned off and Jensen takes Kaylee from him, patting and rubbing her back, whispering that daddy didn’t mean to be so crass and that she should find it in her heart to forgive him. One powerful burp later and Kaylee struggles against Jensen’s hold. For someone who weighs no more than a standard bowling ball, she is a fierce champion of freedom.

They both walk up to the nursery and help Kaylee settle down in her crib. She refuses to sleep by herself, so Jensen puts her down with Hailey. Within seconds of being next to her sister, Kaylee’s fussing disappears. Jared leans against the empty crib, watching Jensen do his own fussing as he situates the girls to share Hailey’s crib. The thick muscles of Jensen’s arms flex as he picks up Hailey and burps her. When he leans into the crib, the perk of his ass is a blessing that Jared takes a long, long drink of. He closes his eyes and remembers what it felt like to grope that ass. A deep breath reveals a sultry thrum in his hips.

“They’ll be okay, right?” Jensen asks, his voice just above a whisper.

Eyes open once more, Jared nods. “It’s good for them,” he yawns and rubs his chest. “Linda says they can all share a crib if they want to.”

Jensen goes the extra step and moves the monitor a little closer to the girls. He checks its batteries before stepping away from the cribs. For the moment, all is well in the world. The babies have full bellies and good dreams. Misha will be in to check on them in an hour, and Jared will nurse again at around ten if they stay on schedule and sleep through this shift. Jensen will have a chance to sleep until noon, when he’ll get up, go for a run, and help Jeff with things around the house. Jared will sleep when he’s not nursing—hopefully.

An arm is slipped around Jared’s waist and a kiss is pressed to his cheek. Heat surges from Jared’s hips all the way up to his face. He takes a sharp breath and leans into Jensen.

“Lotion,” Jensen murmurs, fiddling with the hem of Jared’s shirt. “And bed.”

“Uh huh,” is the best that Jared can reply.

He leaves the nursery with his hand joined with Jensen’s, following after him. Lying down in their bed, Jared’s eyes snap open as he remembers something important.

There are three days until Father’s Day.

 

Four hours later, at their ten a.m. feeding, the babies have become pod people. They are shadows of their former, peaceful, six a.m. selves. Instead of little angels, they are teeny terrors. Torrential tears flow with nonstop crying, wailing, and screaming. For a few minutes, Jared fears that he somehow broke the trio.

“They were fine this morning,” he cries to Misha, trembling because Bailey is screaming in his ear. “I swear, they… they were… oh god…” Accustomed to the four hour schedule, his body lets a store of milk drop. However, the three people who are supposed to be taking advantage of that fact are too busy testing the capacity of their lungs. In a minute, Jared’s shirt becomes an unfortunate victim.

Misha has the same dark circles under his eyes that Jensen has. His hair is all over the place from sleep, and the desperate clutches to it because the babies won’t stop crying. “I don’t get it,” Misha says, distress thick in his voice. “I changed them. No one’s wet. Oh, please, Kay, shh… shh…”

At the ten minute mark, they break down and Jared tries his best to get the girls to latch on. When they finally do, Jared sobs in gratitude. Misha calms Bailey down by holding him differently and talking to him, away from the cries of the girls so they can focus. Little by little, quiet returns to the house and both adults look at each other in endless gratitude. For the first few, full minutes of quiet, they are uneasy and nervous, afraid that at any moment, the girls will sense their peace and disturb it. As those minutes pass, Jared begins to relax in his chair; Misha lies down on the couch with Bailey on his chest. For ten minutes, they zone out to a daytime soap opera.

Kaylee fusses during a commercial. Jared kisses her forehead and she does a little better. While he gets her to latch on again, Jared asks Misha what they might do for the guys this weekend. Jared is relieved to see that he isn’t the only one who has lost track of time. “Holy shit,” Misha breathes from his spot on the couch. “June already. Wow.”

“Two months old,” Jared says proudly. “Already spoiled like hell.”

“It’s not spoiling,” Misha counters with a smile. He brushes Bailey’s hair away from his forehead. “It’s loving—very, very much.”

“Call it what you want, but if one of them asked for a car you’d ask, ‘Mercedes or Bentley?’”

Misha laughs, clear and easy. “If one of them managed speech right now, they’d totally deserve a Mercedes _and_ a Bentley.” He taps Bailey’s nose. “Who’s my Bay-Bay? Huh? Who’s my little man? Is it you? Oh, I think it is. Yes it is. Uh huh.” Jared reminds Misha that Jeff feels they shouldn’t use baby talk—it’s demeaning or something like that. This time it’s Misha’s nose that scrunches. “Jeff can suck an egg. I hear him with his goo-goo ga-ga shit. He’s the one you have to worry about. When they start walking, he’s gonna buy them yachts for every step.”

“As long as I get to be on one of those yachts, I’m okay with that.”

“Sure you are,” Misha says with a happy sigh and resumes focusing all of his attention on the baby in front of him. “Bailey Blue, I’m in love with you. Even when you spit up on me and pee while I’m changing you, I think you’re the real deal for me, Bay-Bay.” True enough, Bailey is ecstatic to be surrounded by the sound of Misha’s voice. He opens his eyes and looks at Misha like he’s everything, which he is. Jared smiles and shakes his head. Yep. What a goner.

“So, any ideas for Sunday?” Jared asks again. Hailey has finished but she’s not done suckling.

“That depends,” the older man replies, grinning at Bailey, who has one small hand on his face. “How are you feeling?”

Not a second passes before Jared gives his most sincere answer, “Dead tired.” He sighs and adjusts the recliner. “But other than that? I’m okay. Some days I have more energy than others. It’s kind of frustrating, to be honest.”

“Think about what your body is doing,” Misha reminds him. “I imagine nursing one baby is tiring. Three is a real mountain of a challenge, right Bay-Bay?” On cue, Bailey gurgles and squeals. Misha goes crazy for the response, tickling Bailey until all he has in his arms is one happy and smiling baby. Eight weeks old means that they have all started responding with smiles and gurgles instead of laying there and crying. This is an exciting time. Smiles are paybacks for the nights when no one can rest. However, they’re all relatively cheerful babies; Jared is thankful for that every day. They have easy going personalities—well, Kaylee tries her best, but her nickname is a worthy title. Miss Diva likes to be the center of attention.

“I just wanna do something nice for him. Jeff too, you know…”

“I do know.”

“All I can think about is sleeping.”

“Well…” Misha sits up when he sees that Hailey has finished suckling. Just like four hours prior, the switch is made. Bailey gives Jared the biggest smile before he latches on. Jared slips a finger into Bailey’s small hand. “We could go out for dinner.”

A frown pulls at Jared’s expression. Anxiety immediately builds in his chest. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to… to leave them.”

“You’re not leaving them. You’re just taking a break. If we go to the Mexican place in the Promenade we can be in and out in an hour.” He and Hailey walk to the kitchen, where Jared hears the fridge open and close. Another juice box is handed over to Jared, including a small plate of cookies and peanut butter. Jared munches on his snack, considering what Misha is saying. “We can get Hannah to babysit. You know I’m making sense, Jared. You need to get out. Even if it’s just an hour.” He holds Hailey up for a moment and she gurgles, flailing happily. “Yes, daddy needs to enjoy the company of adults for a little while, princess. I’ll make some phone calls.”

“Don’t hold her up so high,” Jared warns with a laugh.

“Oh, she’s fine.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Ten seconds later, Hailey spits up all over Misha’s face. She burps, proud of her work. Jared cackles from his spot on the chair as he watches Misha balance Hailey while wiping spit up from his eyes and mouth. When the mess is cleaned up and Hailey is changed, Misha grumbles that he’ll make reservations and call Hannah later on.

Jared spends the rest of the day worrying.

 

La Villita is an upscale Mexican restaurant nestled in the Santa Monica Promenade. Everything is organic, local, and ethically grown or raised. Jared browses the menu during the six p.m. feeding. He’s just eaten a delicious dinner—grilled chicken with sautéed pineapple slices, buttery mashed potatoes, avocado salad, and three large slices of watermelon. He didn’t feel that hungry when he sat down to eat with everyone on the back porch, but when he dug in, it was like a switch flipped and in seconds his plate was clean. Instantly, Jeff served him seconds and thirds of everything.

Sleepy and full like the babies, Jared can barely keep his eyes open. Jensen is washing the dishes and Jeff is getting the nursery ready for the night. Everyone gets a bath tonight, one of Jeff’s favorite things to do. The trio isn’t big enough for the bath tub, so the sink in Jared and Jensen’s bathroom is used. Jared has moved to nurse in bed while he listens to Jeff talk to Hailey as he’s preparing her bath.

Misha swings by and covers Jared up with another blanket. It may be June, but Jared is cold. His body is spending a lot of energy nursing and digesting the buffet he had for dinner. A thank you is mumbled. One of the babies bumps their fist against Jared’s chest. Jared rubs their middle, closing his eyes, lulled by having the babies near and listening to Jeff’s voice in the other room. A saint among men, Misha brings Jared the last of his water intake for the day. Two large glasses are downed before Jared falls asleep.

The next time he opens his eyes, his phone has been put away and he is without any baby or babies to his chest. A brief moment of panic hits him. The room is dark and he’s burrowed under the covers.

“Hey,” a familiar voice murmurs, “go back to sleep.”

“…bies?” Jared asks, wiping drool away from his mouth. He rolls over onto his stomach, relishing the ability to do so after forever of not being able to. A strong arm pulls him close and kisses are pressed to the back of his neck.

“Clean as a whistle and put down for the night.” Jensen breathes in deep. “You smell good.”

“I smell like drool and milk.”

“You smell like mine.”

“Mmm…” Jared smiles into his pillow and turns onto his side so that they are back to chest. “I guess I do.” Fingers card through his hair and he feels like the most loved person in the world. God bless the man that wants to be close despite smelling like drool and milk. One, two, three more kisses are sown along his neck, curving up to a spot underneath his ear. His breath hitches and he reaches back to bury his fingers in Jensen’s hair.

What was life like before this?

A rumble is given from the firm, broad chest pressed to his back. “Is this okay?”

It was lonely.

“Yeah, Punzel. It’s good.”

Full, slick lips suck at his earlobe. Seconds later, Jensen’s tongue flickers along the shell and the softest moan is punched out with a tremble. Jared shivers. He pushes his hips back and his heart picks up when he feels how hard Jensen is. Even if Jared hasn’t lost any baby weight, even if his middle is striped up with stretch marks, even if his stomach sags with the seventy pounds he gained, Jensen still wants him. He can feel tears press in his eyes at the thought of Jensen turning him away. No. That’s not happening. The complete opposite is happening. Jensen grinds his hips against Jared’s ass, working languidly, his breathing coming in little huffs against Jared’s ear.

“Can I?” Jensen asks, tugging at the front of Jared’s boxer briefs. “Are you…?”

“Getting there,” Jared whispers back. “I… it’s gonna take a while, Jen.”

“Don’t got anywhere to be.”

“I should hope not.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Jared can’t help but laugh. He swats at Jensen, smacking his forehead and tugging on his nose. All play stops when Jensen’s hand dips into the slit of his briefs. Thick, solid fingers wrap around Jared’s soft cock. He whines when Jensen tightens his grip and rolls them over. Jared lies on his stomach, knees pushed up slightly, Jensen mounting him and pulling their briefs down in a hurry. His mouth waters when he feels the heavy weight of Jensen’s cock against his ass.

“Jen, oh… uhh… ahhh…” He arches up and moves back, reciprocating the movements, listening to the bed creak and Jensen groan at the same time his cock twitches. Under the covers, everything is hotter. Jensen holds himself up, grinding and rubbing them together to a rhythm masked inside him. Jared savors the sensation of the muscles in Jensen’s arms and thighs working. Tentative, the head of Jensen’s cock bumps against Jared’s entrance. Jared stills. He isn’t sure about that.

“It’s okay,” is purred into Jared’s shoulder. “Everything else feels okay, right?”

Nodding, Jared replies that yes, everything else feels more than okay. But since he is who he is, he keeps worrying. He feels like he owes Jensen an explanation. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to have sex. It’s just that he’s exhausted and it still feels a little tender there. Okay, it feels a lot tender there. And while he was pregnant, he got hard at the mere thought of Jensen. For his cock to be slow to respond to anything now, well, it sucks.

“I can blow you,” Jared offers again, keeping his voice quiet. “Jen, you can use my mouth.”

He doesn’t see anything wrong with his choice of words until Jensen points out that no part of Jared is for anyone to use—period. This isn’t how it works between them, he insists, kissing Jared’s back through the fabric of his shirt. “We don’t have to do it all tonight. I just… wanna make you feel good.”

Jared is about to answer mission accomplished, because Jensen starts grinding again, but he lets out a yelp when he feels Jensen’s hands on his chest. They squeeze hard and rough at the same time that Jensen pushes his weight down on Jared’s ass. A pause is given to see how Jared responds. It’s… it’s not bad. It’s definitely not bad when Jensen times his hands to his hips. Soon enough, the pain is gone and Jared is a mess of moans and sighs. His cock bobs underneath him, hard now, slapping against his stomach when Jensen increases the pace. They both groan when Jared squirts out milk from both nipples simultaneously.

“Mouth,” Jared blurts out, reaching back for Jensen, breathing hard. “Jen, your mouth…”

“You… you sure?”

“Please. Oh, please. Oh, oh…”

In the darkness of their room, Jared is flipped over. He is covered by lean muscle and miles of freckled skin. On his back, he clings to Jensen, wrapping his legs around Jensen’s waist, crying out when Jensen’s mouth seals over his right nipple. He pushes forward, forcing Jensen to get closer, and drags his fingers up and down Jensen’s back. The headboard taps against the wall. Jensen drives his hips down with force, moaning when the first squelch of milk hits his tongue. Jared winds up, shaking from the sensation, overwhelmed with the feeling of Jensen’s mouth pulling, his tongue lapping, and his throat fluttering with every swallow. For a second, Jensen pops off; he draws in a deep breath and opens his mouth wider, biting down at the same time that he pulls. Jared slams his right fist into the mattress, his legs spasming and his toes curling. He pushes against the bed; with his free hand he grips onto Jensen’s hair.

“I… Jen… I’m…”

Nothing but a growl is given in response. Jared bites down on his lip and prays that he can keep quiet.

He’s in tears when he comes, Jensen’s hand pumping his cock. The roughness of his motions, the hunger with which he pounds against Jared, the force of the mattress squeaking… Jared’s eyes roll back. He keeps one hand on the back of Jensen’s head and with the other he reaches towards the headboard, stretching and twisting. His hips are lifted up. Jensen switches nipples. Before he claims the other, he kisses Jared, deep and filthy, sloppy and wet.

In darkness, one word echoes all around Jared.

“Mine.”

Excitement surges through Jared, from his toes to his fingertips. Plush lips seal themselves around the most sensitive nipple and milk gushes into Jensen’s mouth. He makes good work of it, slurping, burying his face into Jared’s chest, causing Jared to come again. The second orgasm is ripped from him, grabbed with claws, dragged and forced out of him with a howl.

Using Jared’s come, Jensen slicks himself up. He lifts his hips and untangles them, kissing Jared again and again, panting, the scratch of his stubble rubbing against Jared’s chin. Their lips smack; their tongues glide. Jared opens his mouth and inhales sharply as Jensen moves. Yes. Holy shit. Yes.

Rough, commanding hands shove Jared’s shirt up and knead his chest. Jared whimpers, his legs curling up, his cock weakly twitching in response. He’s nearly empty now but it feels so good. The pressure on his chest has gone away. The last of what he has to give squirts out; Jensen spreads it all over his chest, over his nipples and onto his cock. Jared encourages him, whining for him to do it. Do it. Make me yours. The last piece of hesitation slips away from Jensen. He jerks himself off, heavy and thick, and slaps his cock over Jared’s chest. He pushes the tip against Jared’s right nipple. A bead of milk combines with the first rope of come. Jensen’s mouth forms an O; he steadies himself against the headboard, the muscles in his thighs and lower stomach flexing. Jared pushes his chest up. He watches Jensen’s hand work, his wrist flicking at the head, generous stripes of come lacing all across Jared’s chest.

They’re both breathing so hard, Jared fears he might just pass out. Jensen’s hands are shaking.

A sweeter, gentler kiss is exchanged. Jensen cups Jared’s face and whispers a thank you. Their foreheads bump together. Jared replies that the pleasure is all his. It takes more than a few minutes for their breathing to settle back to normal, which creates a certain sense of pride in Jared. Still got it.

Of course, because he has the very best boyfriend in the world, he is kissed once more before Jensen rolls out of bed and pads over to the bathroom. Jared watches him, enjoying the renewed spring in Jensen’s step and the easy swing of his hips. Green eyes return with a cool drink of water, two cookies, a damp towel, and a small tin of lotion. Cleaned up, fed, and tucked in underneath their blankets, Jared falls asleep faster than the speed of light.

He likes this kind of worn out.

 

The day before Father’s Day, Jared is preparing his gifts, delivered to him by Misha and UPS Priority.

Next year he’ll go all out, when the kids are a little older and he’s not so exhausted all the time. As he wraps things with care, he hopes that everything will be good enough.

Misha is making him lunch—a fluffy ham and cheese omelet will soon be all his—and Jeff is out running errands. Jensen walks into the living room; he gives Jared a peck before announcing that he’s going out to get the mail. “I’ll come with you,” Jared insists, climbing off the couch. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen laughs and slips their hands together. “Please keep all hands and legs inside the vehicle at all times.”

“Oh, just like yesterday,” Jared snips. “You always gave the best tours.”

Outside, they banter back and forth, walking slowly to the end of the driveway. Outside feels nice. Hannah has already promised to babysit; she will be bringing Linda, which puts Jared a little more at ease knowing that there will be two adults for the trio. Spending time outside might not be so bad. As long as they get back in time for the ten p.m. feeding, Jared has a good feeling about their Father’s Day dinner. He’s going to make sure Jensen eats so many steak tacos. And afterwards, after everything, he’s going to take Jensen into bed and blow him until down is up.

“You’re smiling,” Jensen says with a nudge. “What are you plotting?”

Sweetly, Jared replies, “Nothing at all. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“If you tell me not to worry there’s something wrong.” Jensen opens the mailbox and pulls out enough mail to fill two boxes. “Damn,” he murmurs and arranges it in his hands so he can flip through it.

A variety of differently colored envelopes is sorted through. Jared peers over. Fifteen greeting cards have arrived, all addressed to Misha and Jeff; a few of them have Happy Father’s Day written on the front of them. Jared smiles. He looks at Jensen, who is oddly not smiling. Just as he’s going to ask what’s wrong, Jensen does that thing where he pretends that nothing is wrong. He gives a tight, tense little smile and holds out his arm for Jared so they can walk back up to the house. The pile of mail is held under his other arm with much less care.

The walk back up is quieter. Jensen hands off the mail to Misha and says that he heard a baby cry; before anyone can say that no baby cried just now, he’s halfway up the stairs. What the hell? Misha flips through the mail, looking at every name on the cards and refraining from commenting until he’s seen every single one. “What?” Jared asks, confused still with the problem here. Isn’t it a good thing that people have sent the guys cards for their first Father’s Day?

“There’s one missing,” Misha sighs and shakes his head. He places the cards on the countertop with care. He’ll look through them later, while Jared’s nursing, and pull out his good stationary to start the thank you cards. Jared will lick the stamps and write the names on the cards—that’s what he did when Misha sent out cards after congratulatory cards arrived for the trio’s birth. Jared doesn’t entirely care that he didn’t get any cards like that; many of the ones Misha received included Jared in them, with wishes for a speedy recovery. Besides, the people around him are the ones who matter and they don’t need to send a card to tell him that.

“Missing from…?”

“You know, I really thought he’d at least _try_.” Jared follows Misha into the kitchen. “He’s had plenty of time to come to terms with it.”

“Who are we talking about?”

Two cookies are handed over to Jared. Misha eats one too, sighing. “Alan. There’s no card for Jensen.”

Oh. Oh, shit. They eat cookies in silence until the monitor in the kitchen lights up with a cry. Bailey. Jared can already tell by the pattern in the cries. He starts to get up but Misha pats his shoulder. “I got it,” the older man says easily. “You sit. I’ll bring him to you.” Apparently, Misha can also tell who it is. This makes Jared smile, but not for long. How could Alan not send anything? Not even a fifty-cent postcard? Alan and Jensen didn’t part on the best of terms when Alan was around before the babies were born, but they didn’t part with animosity either. The least he could do is send Jensen a card—that’s the very least.

During the next feeding, Jared thinks things over. Jensen joins him but he’s quiet for the entire afternoon, even when Jeff splits a beer with him. At six, after dinner, Jensen lies down with Bailey and doesn’t speak until Jared asks for a baby switch. Even then, Jensen’s eyes are dim.

Since it’s a Saturday, Jeff and Misha perform a small puppet show for the trio, who don’t understand what’s going on, but who are kind enough to clap and giggle anyway. During the show, Jensen goes out for a run, leaving Jared to his own devices in the living room. For a few minutes, he debates back and forth with himself. Should he? But what if…? Well, if that happens then… Shit.

In the end, he decides to go for broke. He picks up Jensen’s phone and gets a number from it, then dials it into his own phone. This is definitely meddling. But Jensen has given Jared permission to use his phone, so at least Jared isn’t snooping. Two rings go through until someone young and female answers the line.

“Jackson, Godin, and Ackles, this is Marie, how may I be of assistance?”

Oh. Wait. Jared dialed the correct number, right? But then… that means that the listing under “Dad” is Alan’s firm. Wow. What a jerk—Alan, that is, not Jensen. Jared gets himself together and asks to speak with Alan. At first the secretary tries to brush him off, saying that Mr. Ackles is very busy at the moment but she would be happy to take a number. She obviously hasn’t dealt with Jared before. He mentions that this is a personal matter, to which he might be concerned with, since it involves his son. Two seconds later and Jared is placed on hold. He spends this time worrying about the right words to use. Does this make him the meddling wife?

A click is heard and the line picks up. “I’m sorry,” the secretary says with false sincerity, “but Mr. Ackles is tied up in a meeting and cannot be reached for a phone call at the moment. If it is urgent, I can certainly take a message.”

More than anything, Jared wants to cause a scene. He wants to figure out where the hell Alan’s office is, march in there, and raise seven kinds of hell. They sent out announcements a week after the babies were born—a combined effort between Jensen and Misha—and Jared knows that Alan was sent one. Not a single response has been received from him since; this would be the weekend to do it if there was one planned. Jared takes a deep breath. Holy hormones, Batman.

“No, there’s no message,” he eventually mumbles out and hangs up. He stares at his phone and wonders what people a world away from him are doing right now. They were not sent an announcement. It’s not that Jared doesn’t want them to know; he just doesn’t want them to know and not care. Or worse, say awful things about everyone involved and the state of their eternal souls. The next person he calls picks up cheerfully, happy to hear from him. He confesses what he’s just done—or tried to do—and admits that the outcome has left him twisted up. Jensen won’t talk about it and Jared won’t force him, but he’s clearly upset and Jared has no idea how to make it better.

Steak tacos can’t solve everything.

Not even if they have extra cheese.

 

Sleep is encouraged. If the babies are down for twenty minutes, it’s suggested that Jared join them for a nap. Twenty minutes here and there are better than none at all. At first, Jared struggles. He wants to be a real person and do things during the day. He wants to be able to mow the lawn for Jensen and Jeff, because he used to do it in Texas so how hard could it be to mow California grass?

At the very least, Jared wants to be able to read a book in the living room without falling asleep or leaking when a baby starts to cry. It’s automatic, it seems, to have his milk drop when the babies cry or he thinks about them for more than a minute. His body refuses to cooperate with his mind and he ends up nursing in between the scheduled times—babies are horrible at following the whiteboard schedule—and passing out on the nursing couch along with them. By ten p.m., when they’re put down, Jared is scooped up from the living room and carried to bed by Jeff, who pretends that he isn’t at risk for putting his back out.

“Movie,” Jared whines when Jeff sets him onto their bed. “I was gonna…”

A low, rumbling laugh is given at Jared’s pathetic whine for a movie. “You’re gonna have your eyes open for two more seconds is what you’re gonna do. Just sleep.”

“Jen?”

“Mi’s talking his ear off. You’re better off here, trust me.”

“No,” Jared continues to whine, struggling to sit up, “I… we were gonna watch a movie and… I was gonna make popcorn…” Gravity works against him. “Jeff,” he sighs and snaps his fingers, “carry me.”

With a snort, Jeff starts folding the blankets over Jared. “Nope, not happening. I’m not gonna drag you down there just so you can fall asleep and have to drag you up here again. You’re resting, end of story. I’ll see you at two for our hot date with some girls, and a guy to make things interesting.”

“Oh yeah,” Jared mumbles into his pillow, curling up. “Some hot date.”

Jeff lingers, fussing with things on Jared’s nightstand. “Hey, I think you’re pretty hot in your pajamas, looking like you’ve been dragged through hell and back.”

“Why are you still here?” He tries to swat at the older man but he is unfairly out of reach. He huffs and gives up, settling to burrow underneath the covers, which smell like Jensen’s aftershave. If he could stay here forever, that would be okay with him. The kids could be raised from bed, right? They would be homeschooled and Jared would never have to leave bed again. That sounds nice. Sleep sounds nice. He was crazy for thinking about doing things. Pillow. Blankets. Sleep.

Cautious, tender fingers touch his forehead and card through his hair. Jared leans into the touch. The more time passes, the more familiar everyone gets with each other. For all of his outgoing, extroverted personality and career choices, Jeff is not a touchy feely person. He’s a lot like Jensen in that aspect; it takes him a while to feel comfortable with others. But Jared has seen the man at two thirty in the morning, pleading with a seven pound infant to please, please, please stop crying, for the love of god, please stop crying. He’s seen Jeff at four in the morning with the same baby, praising them and holding them close, planning out their entire future—you’re going to have your name in lights, kiddo, I just know it.

“Thank you,” Jeff says quietly.

Jared smiles into his pillow. He’ll wake up in three hours and stumble over to the nursery, where he’ll probably find Jeff already sitting up with the babies, telling each of them that pink is so their color.

“You’re welcome, Papa.”

These are the things that matter. Jared knows this.

An hour later, Jensen slips into bed with a sigh. He tosses and turns for a while until Jared stirs and rolls Jensen over so that they face each other. Half asleep, Jared kisses him. He holds Jensen to his chest and hums until he hears one of the best sounds in the world—the sound of sleep.

 

“You’ll call me, right? Anything. If they need anything, I’ll be here in two minutes.”

“Yes, I’ll call you. We won’t need anything but yes, I’ll call you.”

“Uh… let’s see. Kaylee has been really fidgety lately, I think she’s nervous. But if you hold her like this, she settles a little faster. Oh, and Bailey likes the stuffed lamb, not the bear. I don’t know how it ends up in his crib, this is Hailey’s toy. Um… we’ve been putting the girls in the same crib but Bailey gets jealous so you can switch him in and out if you need to, there’s enough room…”

“Yep, you wrote that down on your list. Along with the five hundred other things you wrote down.”

“Uh huh. Let’s see. Shit, do you want the number to the restaurant? Sometimes my phone is a little weird with the reception…”

“Jared, I’ve raised three children and all of them have made it well into adulthood. I think I know what I’m doing.” Hannah shakes her head and smiles at a bubbly Hailey. “We’re going to have so much fun, yes we are. You are the most precious thing, Hailey. Yes, who’s my sweet snow pea?” A second later, she shoos Jared out of the nursery. “Go! I’ll text you in half an hour with a status report, okay?”

Wringing his hands, Jared nods. “Yes, please. Oh god. Maybe I should stay. We can order in…”

“We are not ordering in,” Misha calls from the stairs. “We have ten minutes to get there, Jared, let’s go.”

Oh god. Oh god. The outside. Being in the presence of adults who are not constantly breastfeeding, changing diapers, falling asleep on the stairs up to the nursery, or flinching at the sound of a baby crying. They’re going to get there, order, eat, and come back. At most, it’ll take an hour. Yes. He can do this. He’s going to feed Jensen tacos until he bursts, and force a margarita down him if it kills them both. And afterwards, he’s going to cart Jensen home, push him down onto their bed, and massage the man until he’s nothing more than a puddle.

“I’m glad you called me yesterday,” Hannah comments, patting Hailey’s back, following him down the stairs. “I can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

Checking his hair in the hallway mirror, Jared sighs. He really does look like death warmed up. But that’s okay. The rest of the adults in his party also look like they’ve been mowed over by three tiny people who have no concept of sleeping for eight hours in a row. “I expect it from _my_ parents. But…I dunno…he seemed kind of nice, you know? He wasn’t mean to me or anything. I mean, he wasn’t exactly nice either, but I did throw up on his shoes. I just thought… he’d wake up and realize, oh hey, this is important.”

“If he did that, he wouldn’t be my ex-husband.” She balances Hailey in one arm and reaches out to pat Jared on the shoulder. “I’m still glad you called.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jared says, pressing a kiss to Hailey’s forehead and hugging Hannah. “I… ugh, please don’t make me cry. If I start now, I’m never going to stop and then this,” he motions to his chest, “is gonna be a mess and I’ll never leave.” Their eyes meet and they smile at each other. She pinches his cheek and playfully pushes at his shoulder, commanding him to leave.

Outside, Linda has Bailey and Kaylee, balancing them expertly while she speaks to Jensen.

At the sight of Jared stepping out of the house, Misha and Jeff all but grab him and drag him into the car. Jared screeches his goodbyes, reminding the ladies that if they need anything, he’ll have his phone with him and he expects updates and please, please be careful…!

Driving away is painful. Jared looks back until a hand slips into his.

Jensen squeezes.

“Oh, Punzel,” Jared cries and hugs him tightly. “You better get trashed.”

 

Jensen and Jeff are both led to believe that dinner will be the four of them, with a reservation set at seven. Misha drives, keeping Jeff distracted with an old argument about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Jensen is distracted by checking his phone every five seconds. Around the corner, up Santa Monica Boulevard, the SUV glides, eventually parking in front of the restaurant. Misha greets the valet—a young man, Arturo—and hands over the keys. Jared takes his first steps out into the public for eight weeks. He looks around and sighs, covering up his middle with the hoodie he insisted on wearing even though it’s eighty degrees. Every minute he doesn’t start leaking is a victory but he wore a black shirt anyway.

Beside him is a man worthy of gracing the billboard Jared remembers staring at back in Texas. Dressed in an outfit Jared picked out, Jensen looks only slightly uncomfortable in fitted, light blue jeans with strategic rips near the left thigh and right knee. Paired with a dark blue v-neck shirt that accentuates Jensen’s arms, the outfit is perfect.

Immediately upon entering the restaurant, Jared has to fight off a hoard from his boyfriend. A flock of drag queens and performers have been called to descend upon La Villita in honor of the two new fathers. Meet them at La Villita—seven o’clock sharp—and be prepared to drink, were the secret instructions sent out via email, text, and phone call. Before Misha could pay to rent out the restaurant for the evening, Mitch, one of Jeff’s closest drag sisters, beat him to it. The restaurant, kitchen, and bar are theirs until midnight. Wave after wave of hugs and kisses are given to the dads of honor. By the time Jensen finds Jared in the crowd, he smells like perfume and he’s covered in a fine layer of glitter.

Rhonda shows up ten minutes into the festivities and is immediately passed two shots and three tacos. She hands Jensen his gift before she takes her shots, which is wise on her part because the queens insist that a girl like her can’t stop at two. At the table, Jensen carefully unwraps the parcel. It’s a fanny pack, which causes him to gasp in horror, but she laughs and insists that he open it. Inside, are two tickets to a concert at the end of the summer. Jared peers over Jensen’s shoulder and makes a noise when he sees that they are tickets to a private event.

“Who am I gonna take with?” Jensen asks, being cheeky. “Let’s see… who could I possibly get to go with me?”

Jared licks his thumb and wipes at the tiny smudge of hot sauce on the corners of Jensen’s mouth. He has the same reaction the babies do. “You can take anyone you want,” Jared says with a squeeze to Jensen’s arm. “But there are perks to going with me, you know. I could totally fall asleep all over you and drool on your shoulder. I am willing to do that for you, Punzel.”

“My hero,” Jensen replies with a smile. It’s one of those smiles that cause his eyes to crinkle and light up. It’s a lazy, joyful, easy smile that Jared sees on the babies. They have to learn smiling from someone. Jared reaches forward and kisses Jensen; they both ignore Rhonda muttering on about how they’re doing _it_ again.

By the end of the meal, Rhonda and Misha are singing—if you can call it singing—along to karaoke on the tiny stage at the back of the restaurant. Covered in sequins procured from one of the ladies’ bags, they belt out what they think is an amazing rendition of “We Are Family.” Jeff saves face and orders another round of tacos, more shots, and delivers a decent Madonna tune.

All the attention is focused on Jensen and Jeff, who are the two fathers of honor. Someone places a crown on Jensen’s head and wraps a pink feather boa around him. Drag queens from all over the state of California announce that they would have liked to have fathers as fabulous as Jeff and Jensen. “Honey,” Starla proclaims, giving Jensen two tickets to a baseball game, “if we could just get you in some kitten heels and a miniskirt, you’d be set.” Jensen is not drunk enough to not blush at that statement. Jared pats his hand and agrees—kitten heels and miniskirt would seal the deal.

Despite all the festivities around them, Jared and Jensen stay plastered together. When a large strawberry margarita is delivered to Jensen, he takes a sip and kisses Jared. More kisses would follow if the whole room wasn’t hooting and cheering them on. After that, the party becomes what Jared is naturally good at. Folks line up around them and start chatting, asking about the babies and what life is like with their family. Jared remembers Charlotte, a queen who named herself after the Sex in the City character; she gives Jensen a brand new watch and a kiss on his cheek, purring that if only her daddy were half as handsome as him. Jensen blushes; Jared beams. An hour rolls by quickly, aided by large platters of tacos, the company of drag queens, and watching Jensen drink two margaritas the size of his head.

Whenever someone drops by their table to say hello, Jared starts the conversation and carries it, asking them how they’re doing, what they’ve been up to, how they’re family is. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since he was thirteen and bored as hell in a two stoplight town. His friends weren’t other boys his age—they were waitresses and church ladies. Jared can talk about anything; he does so Jensen doesn’t have to. Aqua visits, handing Jensen a gift certificate to an old fashioned barber shop. She is six foot seven and dressed in velvet from head to toe, wearing heels that are completely unnecessary and truly stunning. A kiss is blown to Jensen as she leaves their table, off to mingle. Temptations passes through—she’s a gal with a story, Jared knows it because Jeff shared it with him—and wishes Jensen the best of Father’s Days, instructing him to love his children no matter who they grow up to be.

“Even if they grow up to be queens of the stage like little old me,” she sighs and lays a kiss on Jensen’s cheek. A minute later, Jared licks his thumb again and wipes off a smear of bright red lipstick.

At seven forty-five, Hannah and Linda keep their word and a picture update arrives with a ping to Jared’s phone. All three babies are in their cribs, sleeping like angels, as if they aren’t capable of screaming so loud eardrums threaten to burst. Although the picture is difficult to not fawn over, Jared pries his eyes away from it. He can start to feel milk dropping and he’s not about to pump in La Villita.

They’ve stayed out for an hour so far. Jared feels a little more confident when Misha swings by and asks if they’d like to stay another hour. As long as Jared is back home by nine to shower and rest before the ten p.m. feeding, he agrees. Jensen starts sipping on the leftovers of his margarita until a shot and a beer show up. “Don’t forget the lime,” Jared chimes in. “C’mon, knock ‘er back.”

“How do _you_ know so much about drinking?” Jensen asks as he squeezes the lime into the ice cold Corona. “You’re not even nineteen.”

“I’ll be nineteen in July, thank you,” Jared clarifies. He takes a sip from his relegated horchata. “I’m from Texas, Jen. Everyone drinks beer in Texas. It’s like water.” And before Jensen can point out that Jared’s parents are super religious Southern Baptists, Jared adds that God in Texas condones the consumption of beer. That and beating the shit out of their kids, but Jared leaves that part out. “So drink up! I’ll excuse you from fatherly duties tomorrow, Punzel. But just tomorrow. Misha and I might strangle you guys if you have two-day hangovers.”

Jensen drums his fingers on the beer, looking far more serious than anyone should with booze in front of them at a party held in their honor. Jared waits. He slings an arm around Jensen’s waist, resting his head on Jensen’s shoulder for the moment. The booth they’re holed up in is small but it has a large table. Piles of purses are on the chairs as everyone goes over to the makeshift dance floor.

Jared itches to ask what’s wrong but he already knows. At least, he thinks he does. But that’s the thing about Jensen. He has to wait for Jensen to decide when to speak. If he’s asked too early, he clamps up more and hides in his head. So Jared continues to wait, closing his eyes, losing himself in the sound of the party around them and the smell of Jensen’s cologne that he can finally breathe in without throwing up.

After a while, Jensen doesn’t speak up. He’s fighting an internal battle full of memories and old hurt and the things people say when they are jealous and don’t understand happiness in other people’s lives. It’s all over his body language—the way he keeps his arms at his sides and how he tries to make himself smaller in the booth. How small does Jensen want to get while he’s reliving his father telling him that adopting the triplets of a guy he just met not even a year ago is crazy, that he’s throwing away his future, that he’s got so much potential but no motivation… that he didn’t grow up to be a California lawyer and he didn’t grow up to marry a woman and have kids of his own with her at the age of thirty, after he’s just bought his first house. That he could have had so much but instead he’s always chosen to settle—he settled for a crap job at Disney and now he’s settling for babysitting kids that aren’t his.

Okay.

So, Jared didn’t graduate high school at the top of his class. And he didn’t score a 36 on his ACT. He definitely doesn’t come from a long line of geniuses and the good Lord knows that he has his own share of family problems and drama.

But he’s not going to sit here and watch his partner sink.

Standing up from the table, Jared wobbles over to the crowd of people near the dance floor. He seeks out Jeff, who has control of the machine and the microphone. It’s a wireless one, so Jared is free to carry it around if he wants. The thought of what he’s about to do is terrifying but somewhat exhilarating. A quick scan and Jared selects a song. This version is condensed for karaoke but that’s okay with Jared. He can keep up with it just fine. Jeff hollers at everyone to shut up or he’s cutting up their wigs. La Villita goes silent. Jared taps the microphone and laughs when he hears his own voice through it.

He closes the distance between him and Jensen, walking over to their booth, just in time to see Jensen getting up his seat, concerned and curious.

There is no way that Jared could ever win American Idol. But he isn’t completely terrible at this. He’s not as good as Jensen, but hey, who could ever be? He takes a deep breath and decides that if he’s in for an inch, he might as well go the entire mile. As clear and as loud as he can, Jared starts to sing, his eyes square on Jensen.

“He said, sit back down where you belong…” he half sings and half commands, making Jensen take his seat in the booth. This is for him. “…in the corner of my bar with your high heels on. Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time and you said to me…” Gradually, his voice gains confidence. He knows the words easily enough. “Somethin’, somethin’ about this place. Somethin’, ‘bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face.” The look he’s getting—one of pure awe and surprise—is worth it. Jared keeps going, the crowd behind him forming a circle. With one hand on the microphone, he sings into it, sweet and low, taking advantage of his drawl. “Somethin’, somethin’ about my cool Nebraska guy. Yeah, something about baby, you and I.”

During the break in the song, queens start clapping and whooping. Pride emanates from the center of Jared, from a place that is warm and tingly and pure Jensen. It’s the same place where that feeling that his toes are about to curl comes from. The song picks up and Jared’s voice rises.

“We got a whole lot of money but we still pay rent, ‘cause you can’t buy a house in heaven!” His voice squeaks a little on the last part but he laughs it off. “There’s only three men that I’mma serve my whole life…” He holds up three fingers. “It’s my daddy and Nebraska and Jesus Christ. Somethin’, somethin’ about the chase—six whole years.” Feeling bold, he takes three steps closer towards Jensen. “I’m a New York woman born to run you down, still want my lipstick all over your face!”

He might not be the smartest person in the world—fuck, he didn’t know how to use a condom properly less than a year ago—but he’s going to _try_. He is always going to try for Jensen.

Every day, even on the bad ones, he thanks the universe for the man in front of him, grinning and blushing all the way from his nose to his ears. Every single day.

“Somethin’, somethin’ about just knowing when it’s right,” he sings, his voice catching the right notes. This is it. All or nothing. He grabs the beer from the table and turns to the crowd that has gathered. He pushes out the next line, his voice stronger than ever. “So put your drinks up!” Leading the crowd, Jared holds the drink up and turns back to Jensen. In an instant it’s just them. He ramps up his voice, pushing the limits of his range, closing his eyes and standing on the tips of his toes. “For Nebraska, for Nebraska, Nebraska, I love you! You and I! You, you, and I! Baby, I’d rather die! Without you and I. You and I, yeah, you and I. Nebraska, I’d rather die, without you and I.”

Coming back down, Jared opens his eyes, his hands shaking only a little. He laughs, feeling himself turn bright red, his chest heaving with the energy he’s just spent. The song winds down. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jensen. “It’s been a long time since I came around. Been a long time but I’m back in town. And this time, I’m not leaving without you.”

The entire restaurant erupts into applause. Someone takes the microphone from Jared.

Jensen climbs over the table. He propels himself forward and Jared finds himself being kissed so hard, when they separate there’s a cartoonish _smack_!

“I don’t care,” Jared shouts over the cheers of their friends and family. “I don’t care what anyone says or thinks, Jen. We got you.”

He spent three hours searching online for his main gift to Jensen. There is also a Cream Pan gift certificate, a guitar songbook, and miniature mice erasers stashed away for later. But now, this is a good time to give Jensen the first one.

A lavender box is passed over to him. The ribbon is pulled and the box is carefully opened. Jensen holds the box like it’s gold. With as much care as he holds the babies, he lifts up his gift.

“Happy Father’s Day, dad,” Jared murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jensen’s warm cheek. “We’re a set now.”

In the box is an exact replica of Mr. Bun, with one small difference: over his stuffed bunny heart, the letter J is embroidered in green stitching.

 

They’re going to go home with the guys and life from here on out is going to continue on as usual—with no sleep, plenty of spit up, and infinite diaper duty. The circles under their eyes show no signs of vanishing until the babies are at least twenty-one… years old. And even then, he has his doubts.

Maybe tomorrow morning, Jared will put on Titanic.

 


End file.
